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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349973">Chair 5</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InBoccaAlLupo/pseuds/InBoccaAlLupo'>InBoccaAlLupo</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razbrylimedragons/pseuds/Razbrylimedragons'>Razbrylimedragons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Veronica Mars (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Cape Cod but make it Neptune, F/M, It's somehow simultaneously 2005 and 2020, Seagulls - Freeform, they have iphones but also listen to early 2000s emo just go with it pls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:35:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InBoccaAlLupo/pseuds/InBoccaAlLupo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razbrylimedragons/pseuds/Razbrylimedragons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neptune, California. A town without a middle class. If you grow up here, your parents are either millionaires, or work for millionaires. If you’re in the first group, you spend your days lounging by your pool, partying with the who's who of young Hollywood, or—if you’re one of the precious with integrity—working an unpaid internship that your parents (or your parents’ name) secured for you.</p><p>If you’re in the second group, you get a job. Fast food, movie theaters, minimarts, that’s all bottom rung. Inconvenient hours, polyester uniform polos, fluorescent lighting. At least scooping ice cream at the beach means free ice cream, perpetually sticky forearm notwithstanding. Serving at restaurants or caddying at the golf course equals decent tips, but at the whim of aforementioned temperamental millionaires. The coveted summer job, the upper echelon of young adult employment, so good that even the millionaires’ kids do it just for something to do? Lifeguarding at Neptune Beach Club.</p><p>-OR-</p><p>The lifeguard AU no one asked for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Orientation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Neptune, California. A town without a middle class. If you grow up here, your parents are either millionaires, or work for millionaires. If you’re in the first group, you spend your days lounging by your pool, partying with the who's who of young Hollywood, or—if you’re one of the precious with integrity—working an unpaid internship that your parents (or your parents’ name) secured for you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If you’re in the second group, you get a job. Fast food, movie theaters, minimarts, that’s all bottom rung. Inconvenient hours, polyester uniform polos, fluorescent lighting. At least scooping ice cream at the beach means free ice cream, perpetually sticky forearm notwithstanding. Serving at restaurants or caddying at the golf course equals decent tips, but at the whim of aforementioned temperamental millionaires. The coveted summer job, the upper echelon of young adult employment, so good that even the millionaires’ kids do it just for something to do? Lifeguarding at Neptune Beach Club.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s the job every kid in Neptune wants, and I’ve worked my ass off for it. To be a lifeguard for the summer doesn’t just mean the best paycheck for seasonal work. It means tan-lines that last at least until the New Year. Naturally lightened hair, perfectly textured from the sea breeze. Hours contingent on daylight and sunshine. I mean, come on -- your literal job is to go to the beach. It definitely doesn’t suck. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or so I’m told. </em>
</p><p>______________________________________________________________________</p><p>“First year?” A sweet smile and kind voice greeted Veronica at the entrance of the clubhouse.</p><p>“Is it that obvious?” She asked, awkwardly shuffling her belongings in an attempt to free one arm to and shake the girl’s extended hand. “Veronica.” she said, attempting to return the enthusiasm and making sure to keep her grip firm, a lesson from her dad.</p><p>“I’m Meg. It’s great to have you here, Veronica! Do you need a hand?”</p><p>Veronica shook her head, redistributing the weight in her arms, nearly dropping her faded Padres towel.</p><p>Meg seemed skeptical, but accepted the response. “Ok. The lockers are through that door. Did you bring a lock?” Veronica nodded. “Great. We’ve never really had an issue with theft, everyone here’s great, but you know, one-of-those-things.” She’d clearly given this speech before. “Pick any open locker and it’s yours until August. We’ll start the morning meeting right at eight. There’s coffee and doughnuts today, but don’t get used to it. Here, fill this out while we’re waiting. Look forward to working with you!” She balanced a clip board with about a million forms in Veronica’s still very full arms and sent her on her way.</p><p>The locker room was in the back far left of the building and exited to the parking lot. While most of the surprisingly large clubhouse was airy and open with fresh white paint covering the 80s style stucco walls and glass bricks separating the common spaces, the locker room was dark and musky and smelled, well, like a locker room.</p><p>Since all of the lockers were closed, Veronica assumed the ones without locks were vacant, but the only way to confirm this was to open them. The slight problem was that she didn’t, at the present moment, have the dexterity to unlatch the damn lever. (<em>If I could just get the… hitch? Pulley? Thing that goes up and down and opens a locker? You get the meaning right? Is there even a term for that? I could take out my phone and google it,</em> she thought, <em> but see previously mentioned full arms which lead to previously mentioned dexterity problem.</em>) Admitting defeat, she opened her arms and let the pile containing her belongings and Neptune Beach Club clipboard tumble to the ground.</p><p>On instinct, she went for a locker in the far left corner; <em> less foot traffic and no others beside it. And just my luck: empty.</em> Thankful for small victories, she hung her loose lock on the outside and went to acquire her pile from its spot on the floor.</p><p>“Dude, what was up with the Irish goodbye last night?”</p><p><em>Oh great.</em> It had been exactly six days since she’d been subjected to California bro speak, she was starting to miss it. Except she wasn’t.</p><p>“Wasn’t into the scene,” came the reply of a much deeper voice. “Oh, hey, uh that’s my locker.”</p><p>She turned her head, facing them for the first time. “Are you talking to me?”</p><p>“Yeah, Travis Bickle, I’m talkin’ to you.”</p><p>“Clever.”</p><p>“That’s what they wrote on all my report cards.”</p><p>“You’re Logan Echolls.”</p><p>“And you’re still at my locker.”</p><p>“Funny, I didn’t see a name tag on it.” Veronica leaned back, pretending to scan the outside before swinging the door open and looking at the inside.</p><p>“As a second year, let me give you a word of advice: don’t piss off the returning staff. We can make your life hell.”</p><p>“He said, voice dripping with the privilege bestowed only to rich, white men.” Veronica narrated, placing a hand over her heart and tilting her head, batting her eyelashes swooningly. “Anyway,” she shrugged, turned, shoved the last of her belongings into the locker, slamming and engaging her lock. “See ya at the meeting, I wanna get out there before all the good doughnuts are gone!” she slipped past them with her sweetest, fakest smile.</p><p>
  <em>I’ve lived in this town my whole life, she thought, I know how to put up with rich assholes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rule number one of dealing with 09ers: under no circumstances do they get the upper-hand. </em>
</p><p>______________________________________________________________________</p><p>Veronica wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she’d heard ‘free coffee.’ A box-o-Joe, maybe? One of those metal containers that are definitely a fire hazard? Whatever it was, a pop up Starbucks — complete with blender for frappuccinos — was definitely not it.</p><p>Getting into line, she mumbled, “for the cost of this, they probably could’ve gotten a few Keurigs and some Costco muffins and doughnuts for the whole summer.”</p><p>“Yeah, but then how’d they trick us into coming back tomorrow, V?”</p><p>“Wallace, you’re here to go into battle alongside me!” Veronica turned, embracing him, a little too enthusiastic.</p><p>“Uh-uh-uh,” he replied, wagging his finger, “what’s this? You’re the one who forced me to take hours of CPR and god knows how many other acronymed certification courses, promising this was the <b>best</b> way to spend the summer. Now we’re going into battle? You pull your own little Starbucks pop up bait and switch on me, Mars?”</p><p>Veronica put a hand to her chest, mock outrage crossing her face, “I’d never.” At Wallace’s side eye she straightened, “no it’s just, I just don’t know anyone and you know how I feel about people I don’t know…” She raised her hands next to her, as if encouraging audience participation.</p><p>“…you don’t like people you don’t know.” Wallace finished for her, rolling his eyes and moving his head side to side, having memorized this motto years earlier.</p><p>“There’s that stunning intellect my best friend is famous for!”</p><p>“Yeah. Ok. And just exactly how do you plan to make friends next year when you’re on a campus with fifteen thousand new people?”</p><p>“Uh, excuse me.” She interrupted in her best Cher from Clueless impression. “Thirteen.” She planted a period in the air with her index finger. “Thirteen thousand.”</p><p>“Oh, ok then. I mean that’s a huge difference.” He replied with feigned sincerity.</p><p>“I know,” Veronica replied, drawing out the ‘I’, “Right?” They smiled and exchanged an amused glance.</p><p>When it was time to place their orders, Veronica snagged a venti frappuccino with whip.<em> When in 09er-land, right? </em> for her and grande black iced with just a splash of milk for Wallace.</p><p>“Hey everyone!” It was the chipper voice from earlier, Meg, “Can you all grab a seat? We’re on a bit of a tight schedule this morning and we don’t want to scare the first years away before their first actual shift.”</p><p>Veronica attempted to toss a few dollars at the baristas, who insisted they “couldn’t possibly,” before admitting they weren’t allowed to accept tips before she and Wallace made their way over to the semi circle of collapsible chairs facing Meg’s definitely bleached white (and possibly - maybe - veneer) smile. In the few minutes they took to volley banter back and forth at each other, the room had filled up.</p><p>After a few minutes of chatter and the sounds of chairs scraping on the cement floor, the room quieted down again.</p><p>“Ok! So, first, welcome or welcome back to Neptune Beach Club! Or as we like to call it NBC, but there are no peacocks here, just mean seagulls.” She paused for a few chuckles. “Most of you know me or met me this morning, this is my third year as a lifeguard here at NBC and I’ll keep coming back as long as they’ll have me! I’m your head guard this year…”</p><p>Somewhere behind her, Veronica heard the unmistakable screech of metal as someone scrambled to stand, “EN GUARD!”</p><p>Suddenly the majority of the room, including Meg, was standing in what could only be described as a warrior pose. Each had their chests and shoulders back, right arm flexed upward in front of them, their chin angling toward it.</p><p>All at once the room echoed with a loud chorus of “EN GUARD!”</p><p>Veronica glanced around the room and then caught Wallace’s eye, his expression mirroring hers.</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck. </em>
</p><p>“For those of you first years,” Meg began again, once the room had quieted down, “that’s sort of our battle cry. In fencing, ‘En Guard’ is the directive given at the start of a match, telling the opponents to be ready, to pay attention to their surroundings, and be aware of potential danger coming their way. Since lifeguard is often shortened to guard, our director likes us to pass on this message at the end of each morning meeting.” She paused, looking at a spot behind Veronica. “One of our more enthusiastic first years last summer decided to have some fun with it and now we use it as a means to get everyone pumped up for the day. Typically we wait until the end of the meeting for that, but it’s been a bit, so I’ll let it slide this time, Logan.”</p><p>“Touche, Meg. Touche!” Came the reply, from that same spot behind her.</p><p><em>Of course,</em> Veronica thought, the jackass who tried to claim the locker by pissing all over it in front of his douchebag bro. Logan Echolls.</p><p>Veronica had never met People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive Aaron Echolls’ son, but it was impossible to live within three counties and not hear stories about him and his friends. Growing up in the same town, she’d seen paparazzi hanging outside stores and restaurants waiting for him or other just-as-famous families. But those kids went to private school and didn’t mix with poors. And they most certainly didn’t get jobs that paid fifteen dollars an hour to make sure their just-as-wealthy peers didn’t drown after a few too many pina coladas at the beach bar.</p><p>
  <em>Why the fuck was Logan Echolls working here? And why was he already on her last nerve?</em>
</p><p>Veronica’s eyes glazed over as Meg ran through a well-rehearsed rundown of expectations for the summer including hours (lifeguards needed to be on duty 8am-4pm), requesting time off (pretty liberal as long as you got coverage and it was worked out before schedules were posted two weeks out), and certification requirements and rescue training (Sunday mornings, 6-8am for the month of June to catch first years up to speed and provide a refresher for returning staff). The final announcement got expected grumbles from the group.</p><p>“I know, guys, but it’s important we’re all ready and know the protocols by the time the crowds really pick up in July and August,” Meg reminded the group.</p><p>“And we all get wasted to celebrate when it’s over!”</p><p>This outburst came from the same general direction behind Veronica as the previous ones, but it wasn’t Logan Echolls’ voice. She turned to see the same Cali surf bro from earlier in the locker room. <em>09ers do travel in packs.</em> With his shaggy blonde hair and dopey expression eagerly seeking the approval of his peers, he reminded her of a golden retriever.</p><p>“DICK.” Veronica raised her eyebrows and shot an impressed look at Wallace at Meg’s crass admonishment. <em>Didn’t expect that from her.</em></p><p>“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” <em>Ah, a classic case of nominative determinism.</em></p><p>Meg bristled. “I think it can go without saying that we don’t condone ‘getting wasted’ in any capacity. But… just make sure you’re sober by 8AM.” She sighed. It seemed like her energy had finally dissipated. “I think that about wraps it up. Schedules for the first two weeks are up,” she gestured towards the door; a large glass-covered bulletin board was on the outside wall of the locker room, facing the parking lot.</p><p>This time, Wallace was ready for the “En Garde” rallying cry. He jumped up, arm outstretched, with a sheepish look down at Veronica as she begrudgingly pulled herself to standing. He elbowed her lightly, “if you can’t beat them…”</p><p>Veronica rolled her eyes. “Tase them?”<br/>______________________________________________________________________</p><p>There was a method to the schedules that Meg had tried her best to explain in her opening remarks before giving up. (“You don’t need to get it, just go look at the wall.”) To fairly distribute shifts on the weekends, they worked a 6-day rotation: 4 days on, 2 days off. If you were on, you were assigned a partner and any of the five chairs on the beach, each a few hundred feet apart, or the Clubhouse for back up aid. While days on/off remained pretty consistent barring shift swaps, your daily assignment/partner was randomized. Wallace scanned for his and Veronica’s names.</p><p>“I’m off days 4 and 5, you’re off days 5 and 6. We overlap!” They high fived.</p><p>Wallace peered closer. “Looks like we won’t be on the same assignment, though…”</p><p>Veronica pushed him aside. “Nah, they’ll pair the first years with experienced guards until the Sunday training sessions are finished.” She found her name and assignment—a couple days on Chair 5, then 3, back to 5 —then looked for her partners. Meg on Chair 3, and on Chair 5…</p><p>“Well, well well, are we going to have oodles of fun together!” Logan Echolls clapped his hands together, causing Veronica to flinch. <em>Perfect.</em></p><p>She spun around, eyes flashing.</p><p>“Listen. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t care why you’re here. <strong>I’m</strong> here to work and not goof off. <strong>I</strong> plan to take this seriously. Feel free to check out chicks or catch some rays or whatever <strong>you</strong> plan to do, but not when you’re paired with me.”</p><p>“Dude, I don’t think she likes you,” Dick stage-whispered.</p><p>“What do you, like, follow him around?” She gestured between them. “Whatever. I gotta go. My ride is here.”</p><p>Logan looked over to the waiting car lingering in the firelane of the parking lot and snorted. “Duncan Kane is your ride?”</p><p>“Duncan Kane is my boyfriend.”</p><p>Logan snorted again.</p><p>“What’s it to you?”</p><p>“Nothing… nothing at all…”</p><p>Veronica waited.</p><p>By way of explanation, Logan shrugged. “I know Lilly,” he offered.</p><p>Lilly Kane, Duncan’s older sister. She and Veronica hadn’t crossed paths much, but Veronica had heard plenty of stories about the infamous elder Kane.</p><p>“You <strong>dated</strong> Lilly,” Veronica corrected, feeling it was a safe assumption.</p><p>“Well, who hasn’t?” Logan shrugged again, leaning against the stucco building.</p><p>“I haven’t!” Wallace piped in, raising his hand.</p><p>“Shut up, Wallace.” Veronica rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting,” Logan smirked.</p><p>Veronica ignored him.</p><p>“See ya later, buddy,” she punched Wallace on the arm. He nodded goodbye.</p><p>She slid into the passenger seat of Duncan’s sedan. Aware she still had an audience, she gave him a chaste kiss then leaned back on the headrest, closing her eyes and soaking up the air conditioning.</p><p>
  <em>It was going to be a long summer.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Week 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“One of these days, this thing is gonna break down and stop working for good, you know,” Wallace muttered, running a hand along the dash and giving it a quick pat as Veronica pulled into the staff lot behind the clubhouse.</p><p>“Thank you for the ride, Veronica,” she impersonated. Tilting her head, she replied to herself: “Why, you are so very welcome, Wallace.” Another tilt. “And also, thank you for driving ten minutes out of your way to pick me up before our eight AM shift.” A final tilt and toothy grin. “Don’t mention it, buddy.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Mock if you want, but I’m looking out here. Mark my words, you’ve had too long a string of luck with this ‘94 LeBaron breaking down in convenient places. One of these days, that luck is gonna run out.”</p><p>“I believe that you just referred to my car breaking down as lucky?”</p><p>“Fine, twist my genuine friendly concern. But just know, now I’ll be happy to say <b>I told you so.”</b></p><p>Veronica and Wallace made their way into the locker room through the back door, to which they now had access via the keypad. (“The code is 1-2-1-2, don’t go sharing it with non-guards!” Meg had basically cheered at them during orientation.)</p><p>Veronica was somewhat surprised to see her locker appeared to be untouched; part of her expecting Logan Echolls to have somehow tampered with it in the three days since she’d last been there. Intent on her visual inspection, she didn’t notice a body sidle up next to her.</p><p>“Expect it to grow legs?”</p><p>Mildly startled, her shoulders jumped. “What! No.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, as she turned to meet Logan’s raised brown and crinkled forehead. “What do you have, like, a lojack on me or something?”</p><p>“Tracking device actually, but it only works within a hundred yards. I knew I shoulda sprung for the more expensive model.” He replied, snapping his fingers in an ‘awe-shucks’ gesture.</p><p>“Yeah. Well as fun as this is…” She didn’t bother finishing the sentence, instead turning her attention to her locker to slip her bright red GUARD sweatshirt in and pull out her towel. It wasn’t until she was ready to lock up, soft sided cooler dangling from her arm, that she realized he was still standing beside her. “Can I help you with something?”</p><p>Logan looked around the room behind him before plastering a fake smile across his face and stretching backwards and placing a hand delicately to his chest, as if just realizing she was speaking to him. It was then that she noticed the white, sleeveless, shirt he wore seemed to be tailored to his body. “Me? Little old me?”</p><p>“You know what, forget it.” She rolled her eyes and slammed her locker, her shoulder brushing his firm bicep as she strode purposely toward the door.</p><p>“Just waiting patiently for a chance to get into my locker, Mars.” He called after her.</p><p>His words stopped her in her tracks. <em>What.</em></p><p>She turned and his peculiar actions this morning became clear. Though his back was to her, she could see that he was most definitely swirling the combination lock on the locker directly to the right of hers. His head swiveled over his left shoulder and his brown eyes met her blue, giving her a wink as he tossed whatever was in his hands forward and reached to pull something out. She didn’t bother hanging around to see what it was.</p><p><em>No,</em> she thought, <em>simply tampering with her locker would’ve been far too easy. </em></p><p>_________________________________________</p><p>“Alright, that wraps it up for today. First years: good luck and don’t be shy about asking for help from any of the returning staff, myself included!” Meg’s encouraging smile and attitude were almost contagious. Almost.</p><p>“You heard the boss!” Came the voice which Veronica now knew belonged to one Dick Casablancas. “LET’S DO THIS!” He jumped from his chair, bouncing on the balls of his feet, seeming feather light. “And-a-one! And-a-two!” he bellowed, bending his arm and swinging it across his body with a jaunty expression, trying to rev up the crowd like a spastic conductor. Dick paused, looking around the room in mock seriousness. “I wanna hear you all.” He took an exaggerated deep breath. “And-a-three! Ready? EN GARDE!”</p><p>This time, Veronica had given a half-hearted attempt at raising her arm, conspiratorially rolling her eyes at Wallace as she unenthusiastically mouthed along.</p><p>As the group broke up and the guards started making their way to their assigned posts, Veronica spotted Logan and Dick by the door. Logan was laughing at some story Dick was telling - acting out, more accurately - as he clipped his rescue tube together and draped it over his shoulder, cross-body. </p><p>She looked at Wallace, shoulders slumping and making the face and whine of a sad puppy. “Why.”</p><p>“Every job has its obligatory psychotic jackass, V. He’s ours.” Wallace placed a hand on her arm. “Good luck and godspeed.” Wallace gave her one final pat and made for the exit, excusing himself between Logan and Dick, who took the action as cue to get moving themselves.</p><p>“You waiting for a personal escort, or you planning on making your way over to Chair 5 any time before someone drowns today?” Logan called back to her.</p><p>_________________________________________________</p><p>Chair 5 was the furthest chair from the club house, nearly a half mile trek across lava masquerading as sand at Neptune Beach Club. This meant a thinner crowd as fewer beach goers made their way that far out, but it also meant no impromptu visits from fellow guards on their way to the restroom or to pick up their lunches from the fridge in the locker room. Veronica realized the gravity of the situation very quickly. </p><p>It was nearing noon and he’d hardly shut his mouth. </p><p>“Oh, hey, hey, Veronica. Check this out, to your left, nine o’clock.” Logan leaned forward, moving his right foot to the splintered wooden bench next to his left thigh, wrapping his right arm around his knee. </p><p>She’d only just begun to enjoy the briefest respite from his <b>incessant</b> going ons about <b>everything.</b></p><p>She sighed, exasperated but taking the bait. “And what exactly am I looking at?”</p><p>He dropped his ziplock bag of grapes on the chair and pulled his Ray-Bans (black wayfarers, of course) to the tip of his nose before lifting his brows at her a few times. He pointed with his left hand, “there, teal umbrella - hack job putting it up by the way, that thing is gonna go flying the first gust of wind that comes through - anyway, teal umbrella, three chairs; pink, blue, and yellow. See it?”</p><p>Veronica used her right palm as a viser to shield her eyes from the sun, squinting as she scanned the beach. “Oh, ok yes, I see them.”</p><p>“Ok, see the kids lined up on that blanket in front of the charis, all those toys and food laid out?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Ok. Now we wait.”</p><p>“For what? You know that whole ‘thirty minutes after eating’ thing is a myth right?”</p><p>“Patience, Iago.” Logan drawled.</p><p>“You realize you’re having me look in the exact opposite direction of where we should be looking, right?” She turned to him, annoyed.</p><p>His eyes flicked to her and for the briefest of seconds it seemed like he was going to speak, but then something caught his attention. “Here it comes, here it comes!” He swatted at her shoulder with the back of his hand. “Look! You’re gonna miss it!”</p><p>Veronica turned in time to see a <b>massive</b> seagull take flight just behind the row of chairs, swoop up, and immediately torpedo down. With precision that said this was clearly a practiced move, the seagull opened its beak mere inches from its destination, capturing a barely eaten sandwich directly out of the hands of an unsuspecting preteen. The kid shrieked and threw his arms in the air but the bird was already flapping its wings up, up, and away.</p><p>Veronica sat horrified, mouth agape. Beside her, Logan leaned back against the bench, head thrown back, laughter shaking his body. </p><p>“Seriously? <b>That’s</b> funny to you?”</p><p>“Every time. Every single time.”</p><p>“So this is a common occurrence?”</p><p>“Oh the seagulls here are ruthless, Mars. Learn now, and learn fast.”</p><p>“You find it amusing that some poor kid just got his lunch ripped out of his hands?”</p><p>“C’mon,” he said, standing and pulling his shirt over his head by the back of the neck, “as you so politely pointed out at orientation, no one who has a membership here is poor.” He tossed his shirt on the bench beside her; his exposed torso not at all distracting.</p><p>“And exactly what do you think you’re doing?”</p><p>“We’ve been on this chair for four hours striaght and it’s 95 degrees today. I’ve had about a gallon of water and I need to cool off. Think you can hold down the fort for ten minutes while your second-year supervisor takes a quick dip and relieves his bladder?”</p><p>“You’re going to pee in the water?”</p><p>“You’ve never?” He asked, skeptical.</p><p>“Wha-well...”</p><p>“Let me guess, you don’t pee in the shower either?” He winked, “no wait, don’t answer that. Let’s not talk about watersports until we get to know each other better.” He said, before turning and jumping off the ledge of the chair, dropping six feet but somehow landing the dismount perfectly. He saluted dramatically, raising his arms above his head. “A perfect 10!”</p><p>“You’re not my supervisor,” was the only response she could muster, mumbling it mostly to herself as he darted off toward the water. </p><p>When ten minutes turned into twenty, Veronica tried zeroing in on each figure in the water, but how was she to pick out one tan, frosted tipped, 09er amongst the boogie-boarding, body-surfing masses? Just as Veronica was going to give up and assume he’d fucked off to the snack bar or to see what his golden retriever tagalong was up to, she spotted him at the shoreline. </p><p>He stood in profile to her, both hands on his hips, one knee popped. She had been wondering all morning about his choice in swimsuit (which reminded her more of 90s style soccer UMBRO shorts than what most of the other guards were wearing). <em>Who is this girl he’s talking to, though?</em> As the thought passed through her mind, his head turned in her direction. He nodded to her quickly and said his goodbye to the busty blonde with whom he’d been conversing.</p><p>“Sorry for that,” he said as he appeared from the ladder behind the chair, climbing around and returning to his seat. “Ladies can’t seem to resist me.” He blew his knuckles as if they were dice in Vegas.</p><p>“It’s Baywatch, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Come again?” He asked, half smile pulling at his lips.</p><p>“You and Dick got bored playing video games and hanging out by the pool and doing god knows what other cliche shit you 09ers do, so you thought, ‘hey, Baywatch was always fun. Let’s go live like The Hoff and bag a few Pamela Andersons of our own’.”</p><p>“Know what, Veronica? Ya figured me out.” He paused, holding up an index finger before flipping his hand over and sliding both hands into a full on shrug, “except for one thing. I’ve always been more of a Yasmine Bleeth fan, myself.”<br/>
_________________________________________________</p><p>“Goooooood afternoon, Neptune Beach Club! It is 3:30, which means the clubhouse will be closing and the guards will be outta here in thirty minutes.” </p><p>Veronica started at the sound of Logan’s voice echoing across the beach. When he had leapt from the stand a second time, she assumed he had been trying to track down the blonde from earlier before his shift ended. </p><p>Logan ran through what was clearly a scripted closing announcement, asking beach goers to clean up their trash (<em>fat chance of that</em>), reminding them of clubhouse activities for the upcoming week, and wishing safe travels home. She could practically see the smirk on his face as he finished his announcement: “And here is today’s inspirational message: ‘Advice from the Ocean: Be <b>shore</b> of yourself. Come out of your <b>shell</b>. Take time to <b>coast</b>. Avoid <b>pier</b> pressure. <b>Sea</b> life’s beauty. Don’t get so <b>tide</b> down on work that you miss out on life’s beautiful waves’. Have a wonderful day!”</p><p>When Logan returned to Chair 5, Veronica had already packed up her belongings and stacked them neatly on the backboard. “Thought you were bailing early on me,” she said sardonically. </p><p>“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sugarpuss!” He tucked the yellow rescue board under one arm and with his other arm lifted one end of the backboard, Veronica’s careful pile toppling into the sand, and took off again back towards the clubhouse, dragging the board behind him. “You can get the rest!” Logan called back to her, practically skipping, lifting his eyebrows as if he <b>dared</b> her to challenge him. </p><p>Veronica gathered up her belongings, the small first aid kit, rescue tube, and walkie set. While Logan had definitely taken the bulkier items with him, Veronica was now stuck with a lot of <b>stuff</b> that she carefully stacked in her arms. <em>I’ll be damned if I take more than one trip.</em> Slowly, stopping occasionally to rebalance her items, she trudged her way through the sand back to the clubhouse. <em>Day one: complete.</em></p><p>_________________________________________________</p><p>Veronica was halfway back to Chair 5 when she realized she had intended to stop at the vending machine and grab a bottle of water. She was morally opposed to the fact that a sixteen ounce bottle of Aquafina was two dollars and fifty cents, but the ice she’d filled her Nalgene with that morning had long since melted. Her dad had suggested she invest it a better cooler for her long days at the beach, but the little Igloo she’d had since she was a kid was just fine. <em>Except it totally wasn’t.</em> The turkey sandwich she’d packed at 7 was questionable at best by the time she dug into it at 12:30.</p><p>She was now faced with the option of either walking back to the club house - in the sweltering, humid, heat - or spending the afternoon sucking down warm water. <em>There was also the fact that Logan would give her shit for being gone too long.</em> She’d known him a sum total of maybe twenty hours and already she could hear the admonishment in her head. She sighed and reluctantly trudged ahead. </p><p>“Dude, why are you being such a little bitch about this, Tourmaline swells are gonna be sick. The waves here have been weaksauce.”</p><p>“Hey, Dick.” Veronica called as she approached. <em>His invitation to MENSA should be arriving any day now.</em> Dick was occupying her seat while Logan was perched atop his ever-09er-appropriate Yeti cooler. “I’m not gonna risk salmonella or worse yet, drink warm water,” he’d said with a shrug, when she’d arrived that morning and eyed the addition to their setup. In his current position, he was leaned forward, legs open in a V, elbows resting on his knees.</p><p>“Ronnie! Well look who decided to come back to work!” Dick stood, gesturing to her seat in a ta-da motion. “Your throne awaits,” he proclaimed before doing a backflip off the chair and rolling into the sand.</p><p>“Jesus Christ, Dick!”</p><p>He wiggled her eyebrows at her. “That’s what all the ladies say!” Turning his attention to Logan, he brushed the sand off his hands. “Dude, think about it. We have a car leaving early AM.” With that he took off down the beach.</p><p>Veronica ascended the ladder and reclaimed her perch on the seat, waiting for Logan to comment on how long she’d been gone. He didn’t. He was actually - surprisingly - quiet. After several minutes of uncharacteristic silence, Veronica hazarded a glance from her periphery. He was still leaned forward, but he seemed <em>off</em>. His hands were fidgety, twisting his fingers together.</p><p>“What’s your deal right now?” She asked before she could stop herself. </p><p>That stilled him. A half smile pulled at his lips. “My deal?”</p><p>“Don’t get the wrong idea, Echolls. I’m not looking to make friendship bracelets here. You're just all weird and twitchy.”</p><p>Oddly, that appeared to relax him.</p><p>“It’s a tough life here, isn’t it?” She gave a Vanna White gesture across the beach. “Being the servant and not the patron?”</p><p>Logan’s face lit up in a grinch-like smile. “Oh, Veronica, I’m <b>more</b> than happy to patronize you.” </p><p>Veronica ducked her chin to her chest in defeat, closing her eyes and shaking her head at herself. “I walked right into that one.”</p><p>“Ya did, but as Smokey the bear says, knowing’s half the battle.” Logan stood, pondering for a minute, “no wait. That was G.I. Joe. Smokey says,” Logan paused briefly pointing to himself in earnest,  “that only <b>I</b> can prevent forest fires. Feels like a big responsibility to levy on a six year old, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Were you going somewhere?” Veronica asked, ignoring his non sequitur.</p><p>“Gonna take a quick dip!” He smiled and winked. “Oh, and if you’re looking for your water bottle that is totally made of non-BPA free plastic, I tossed it into the Yeti. You know that sitting in the sun is what makes those things even more cancerous, right? God, what would you do without me?”</p><p>_________________________________________________</p><p>Veronica felt considerably lighter when she arrived for her third shift of the week.. Not only would she have the next two days off (it was amazing how after only three days of work she was ready for a break), but she’d be working at Chair 3. Chair 3 was gloriously centrally located on the beach, within steps of the far end of the parking lot where the ice cream truck would stop in the early afternoon, and perhaps best of all, its busy location meant one of the guards on duty had to be at least a third year, so each time she was stationed there, there was a guarantee she would not be paired with Logan Echolls. It was going to be nice to work with a mature adult for a change</p><p>Veronica got to the stand before Meg, so she climbed up, put her sunglasses on, and lounged back. The sun was just beginning to burn off some morning fog, and she felt at ease, finally reminded of the reason so many coveted this summer job. </p><p>“Uh, Earth to Mars?” Meg snapped Veronica out of her daze. Veronica scrambled to peer over the edge of the lifeguard stand. Meg was standing with her hip jutting out, arms folded across her chest, and she looked pissed. </p><p>“You’re going to leave me with all the setup work? We’re a team here, Veronica, you can’t expect others to do all the work for you.” </p><p>Veronica immediately felt a lump in her throat and a wave of heat come over her face, telltale signs of embarrassment and anxiety. She sputtered, “Whaa--? What? I didn’t realize we had anything to do in the mornings?” </p><p>“Who do you think brought out all the equipment and did the set up, fairy godmothers? Honestly, I expected more of you.”</p><p>As Veronica attempted to form words to respond, the backboard and accompanying accoutrements magically appeared in the sand next to Meg. <em>What the...</em></p><p>“Morning ladies!” </p><p>Veronica turned her attention to see Logan in a wetsuit, pulled low on his hips. <em> What the hell was he doing here.</em></p><p>“I thought you were off today.”</p><p>“Don’t get all worked up, Mars. I’m here to surf. Just doing a friendly favor out of the kindness of my heart.” He clucked his tongue and cocked his head. “Don’t get used to it.”</p><p>Meg looked at him with what appeared to be adoration. “Thanks Logan, that was totally unnecessary. I guess I was expecting more of some of the first years.” </p><p>Veronica could not believe her eyes. Logan had somehow managed, in less than three minutes, to ruin her one day away from him. <em>How could Meg not see through this blatant act of his? He was clearly skipping out on showing her the ropes so it looked like she was the one skirting her duties.</em></p><p>By lunchtime, it seemed Meg had forgiven Veronica. Save for a few passive aggressive comments about how there was just “so much more to Logan than people think,” (<em>vom</em>) she spent most of the morning chattering and giving Veronica the run-down on the other guards. She had the remarkable ability to be gossipy without being mean, which was impressive. </p><p>Once Veronica had been given the intel on each guard on staff, how long they had worked at Neptune Beach Club, and where they were going to college, Meg turned her attention to Veronica. “So tell me about you,” she said excitedly. “How’s the first week going? What’s your story?”</p><p>Veronica balked. She didn’t mind chatting about others, but talking about herself was a different story. </p><p>“Well, I just graduated from Neptune High. I’m going to Vanderbilt in the fall. And… I like Italian food?” </p><p>Clearly, this wasn’t juicy enough for Meg. “So… any relation to <b>Sheriff</b> Mars?” </p><p><em>Here we go.</em> Veronica eyed Meg closely. She seemed to be genuinely curious, and Veronica did get a good vibe from her.</p><p>“He’s my dad,” Veronica confirmed. “But if any of the riff raff here at NBC asks, let’s go with... distant uncle.” </p><p>Meg laughed. “The people here are <b>so boring</b>,” she said under her breath. “The most we might get is a rowdy dad after a few too many drinks, but most of the drama is behind closed doors.” She looked around, as if anyone could hear their whispers from the beach below. “<b>Lots</b> of affairs,” she revealed. </p><p>“Headline news at eleven,” Veronica sniggered. “Followed by the breaking story that water is wet.”</p><p>“So what’s the story with you and Wallace? You’re pretty tight,” Meg asked, completely breezing over Veronica’s joke.</p><p>“Yeah, Wallace is good people.”</p><p>“And…” Meg pressed.</p><p>“What?” Veronica turned and caught the glint in her eye. “Oh. OH, no. No way. I love the guy, but he’s basically my brother. Wait, are YOU interested in him?”</p><p>“Me? No. Somebody? Maybe.”</p><p>“Who?” </p><p>Meg shrugged, feigning innocence</p><p>“Who?! Tell me!”</p><p>“Now, Veronica. As head guard,” she punctuated the word with that dumb gesture from the morning meeting, “it is my duty to keep things revealed to me in confidence <b>in confidence</b>.”</p><p>
  <em>Note to self, Veronica, never reveal anything in confidence to Meg.</em>
</p><p>“How come I never saw you at any parties with Wallace?”</p><p>“Best friend duties include baking spirit cookies and reluctantly attending basketball games - and the occasional pep rally - to support, but I draw the line and crashing an 09er party.”</p><p>“FYI, it’s not crashing when you’re invited.”</p><p>“Yeah, invited <b>just</b> because the town reveres you for averaging twelve rebounds per game.” Veronica paused, brushing dry sand from her knee, “I get it. I’ve seen how it works my entire life. Wallace was a commodity; he was invited because he was projected to get a full ride to a D1 NCAA school and then become <em>one of you</em>. But he had to go and fuck it up by going and getting into MIT.”</p><p>“You wanna pause for a breath there?”</p><p>“Sorry.” Veronica realized she may’ve gone a little overboard.</p><p>“Hit a nerve, did I?”</p><p>“Wallace is a Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuffiest Hufflepuff. He sees the best in everyone.” At Meg’s quirked brow, Veronica paused. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing, I just didn’t take you for a Harry Potter fan.”</p><p>“I’m not, it’s just a very effective way of sorting people into personality tropes.” Veronica supplied as if stating the obvious.</p><p>“Uh huh.” Meg shrugged, “of course. <b>Sorting</b>”</p><p><b>“Anyway.”</b> </p><p>“Have you ever thought, Veronica Mars,” Meg posited, “that being from the 90909 is no more a defining personality trait than is <b>not</b> being from the 90909?”</p><p>“Meg, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”</p><p>Meg smiled back, sweet, genuine. “You didn’t. And I get it. Most of the shit that’s said about 09ers has some air of validity. But,” she twisted her hand, looking for the words, “what’s that saying? Gilded cages and whatnot? We’re not all living perfect lives and we’re not all privileged assholes, Veronica.”</p><p>Meg slid forward on her seat, see-sawing back and forth for a minute before standing. “Ok, that’s enough bonding for today! I’m gonna take a quick bio-break and grab a water and a snack from the club house. You need anything?”</p><p>Veronica was tempted, glancing at her soft-sided cooler and near empty Nalgene. “No, I’m all set, thanks though!” </p><p>“Alright. Just remember, you ditch me for clean up duty at the end of the day and we will have <b>words</b> Mars!” With that she hurdled forward and jumped down to the sand.</p><p>
  <em>What was it with no one else taking the ladder down?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we're back!</p><p>Hope you enjoyed! :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So InBoccaAlLupo had been trying to get me to watch Veronica Mars since the movie came out in 2014. I finally broke down after The Good Place ended and fell deep into a rabbit hole over the past six(ish) months. I have scoured A03 and read so SO many amazing stories by the amazing authors in this fandom. I convinced InBoccaAlLupo to fall into the rabbit hole with me. I then, over the course of a few months, would tell her ideas I had for stories “but I’m never going to write it. I’m just going to think about it.”</p><p>Cut to last month, we were on the beach in the cape and saw lifeguards hanging out. “Ok hear me out, Logan and Veronica but as lifeguards.” We spent the remainder of the day casually throwing out ideas and realized that we were going to have to write the damn thing. (InBoccaAlLupo’s exact words: Goddammit we need to write this.) And thus this AU was born. We are excited to share this story with you and hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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